Someone once told me about rose colored sunglasses and how they distort everything you see. Its sort of like when you’re in love and all you see is the good, blinded by happiness you never knew existed. You ignore all the bad and troubling signs because, at the time, it didn’t matter. But all those little things added up. So maybe it’s time to take off those sunglasses and see things the way they are.
Staying up late and letting your thoughts roam is equivalent to emotional suicide.
No matter how many times I wash these sheets, I can’t wash you away. Fuck.
I had a dream that we were holding hands again. Awkwardly, but still. Fingers intertwined. The longer it went on, the tighter the grip. We were connected. I think that connection is fading away. I can’t chase it. I can’t replace it. I can’t magically make it reappear. I miss it dearly, more than I miss you.
48 hours of moping is almost over. Break ups shouldn’t consume my life. I need to adjust to being single and continue to keep a smile on my face, even if it kills me. I refuse to let this marinate in my brain.